


Mountains

by TheSummoningDark



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSummoningDark/pseuds/TheSummoningDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a late night stroll, Bilbo finds himself witness to a quiet moment of doubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill [this prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=241342#t241342) on the Hobbit Kink Meme. Spoilers for the Battle of Five Armies.
> 
> Note that this fic was written before the release of the movie of the Battle of Five Armies, and as such is now AU for the movies. It still works well enough as a missing scene from the books.

The first stars were just beginning to shine in the sky when Bilbo's restless feet finally carried him out of the undeniably generous lodgings the people of Lake Town had provided for them. Fine though the place was - he appreciated it all the more after months of sleeping in caves, on cold hard ground, in all manner of unpleasant places - on this night he found that the sturdy wooden walls were closing in on him. The tension ebbed from his small frame as he stepped out into the cool night air, the boardwalk worn by generations of passing boots smooth under his bare feet, and noiselessly closed the door behind him. 

It was a pleasant enough evening. Though the sun had slipped below the horizon, the sky was still aglow with red and gold fading slowly to deepest midnight blue. The reflections of a thousand flickering torches and the sliver of moon high above glimmered like molten gold and silver on the wavelets of the Long Lake. The light breeze coming in off the lake blew him as it might a stray leaf; he found himself unconsciously compelled to wander, aimless footsteps taking him toward the edge of the town. This uncharacteristic restlessness he was rather inclined to blame on his companions. They had been in Lake Town, in the shadow of the Mountain, long enough now that the dwarves were growing increasingly impatient to continue their journey. Apparently their impatience was contagious.

There had been much poring over maps and serious discussions of route and strategy. Bilbo, as the official burglar of the company, found that his opinion was called upon from time to time. But for the most part the planning was the reserve of the older dwarves, those who knew the lands around Erebor and the hallways therein best. He felt somewhat superfluous most of the time. And more than that, their undisguised hunger to continue the quest made him feel almost ashamed of his own lack of enthusiasm. He could quite happily have remained in Lake Town indefinitely. The looming shadow of the Mountain filled him with a formless dread. 

Half lost in his own thoughts, the two figures sitting still and silent on the edge of the boardwalk took him almost by surprise. The slight scuff of bare feet on smooth-worn wood his start produced was sound enough to alert to his presence; they glanced up in curious unison. He was struck by the impression that he'd interrupted something, but their welcoming smiles seemed genuine.

"Hullo," he said, summoning a wan smile of greeting. "Fíli. Kíli. Fine evening, isn't it?"

"Finer in good company," Fíli replied. "Come. Join us." He gave a gesture which encompassed the expanse of boardwalk yet available for sitting, and - Bilbo brightened somewhat on noticing - the skin of wine sitting between the two brothers.

"I think I shall," he said, and the dwarves shifted apart a little to make room for him to sit between them. The wineskin, most sadly abandoned in the growing space, soon found a new home tucked into the crook of Bilbo's arm. He inched his feet cautiously over the edge of the boardwalk and fixed the rippling water with a suspicious look. The chaotic trip down the river from Mirkwood had done nothing to lessen his inbred mistrust of water and he still rightly regarded it as something sensible folk should avoid. But the boardwalk seemed stable enough, and by now he was reasonably certain that he could count on Fíli and Kíli to fish him out again if he should fall in. For the promise of good wine and good company to lift his spirits, he decided to chance it.

"Late to be wandering the boardwalk alone, is it not?" Kíli commented, reaching for the wineskin.

"Afflicted by the same desperate need to be on with our quest which so affects our kin, no doubt," Fíli appended dryly, and there was an odd edge to his tone that Bilbo wasn't quite sure what to make of.

"I must say," Bilbo said, opting not to think too hard about it, "Lake Town is at least a more pleasant place to wait a while than the Elvenking's dungeons." That earned him a muffled snort from one brother and a smirk from the other; the wineskin was passed back his way without comment.

Indeed, the wineskin was passed from hand to hand in silence for quite some time thereafter, and though as silences went it was companionable enough, before long Bilbo began to grow concerned by the quiet and pensive air. It was something he did not at all associate with the two young dwarves. From the very beginning of the journey they had always been the loudest, the brightest, the most given to filling the endless hours of travelling with jokes and tales and songs. To see them so subdued seemed to his mind thoroughly unnatural. His eyes were once again drawn to the no-longer-distant silhouette of the Mountain, and he found himself saying the first thing that came into his head just to break the growing silence. "I do wish it wouldn't loom so!"

The unprovoked outburst earned him two rather bemused looks, and he flushed slightly. "I am sorry, I know it's your home I'm speaking of. But I do wish it wouldn't lurk there on the horizon. I feel as though it's staring at me."

"'Home' is a strong word," Kíli muttered.

"You needn't apologise," Fíli said more firmly, casting his younger brother a quelling glance. "It's hard to think on anything else when our goal is so near."

Bilbo's gaze slid down to his toes. "You make it sound entirely too noble," he replied, unaccountably feeling rather wretched all of a sudden. "I still don't feel truly a part of this quest. It's not my home we've come all this way to save. Oh, don't misunderstand me!" he added hastily, "I said I'd help in any way I could and I'll stick to that. But- well. It's not my home." Home was under a hill miles and months away, and for a moment he missed Bag End so fiercely it was like an ache deep in his chest.

Fíli cast a sideways glance at the unhappy hobbit, and then at Kíli, who was contemplating the dark water with unseeing eyes. He sighed. "Nor is it ours."

Bilbo looked up, puzzled. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. I thought..." He wasn't entirely sure how to finish the question.

"We are young still," Fíli elabourated, "Not much more than boys, as our people reckon these things. We were born long after Smaug came."

"We had never so much as seen Erebor before now," Kíli added, an almost wistful note to his voice. His gaze had lifted from the gently rippling waters of the lake to the dark shape of the Mountain, fading slowly from sight as true night fell.

It was an answer, but one that raised yet more questions. Bilbo realised that he had never really had a clear notion of how long ago the events which had been described to him transpired. Of course he was entirely unclear on how to judge the age of a dwarf, and it would have been terribly rude to inquire, but he would have felt safe in guessing that Fíli and Kíli were the youngest by some way. It had just never occurred to him how much 'some way' might be. That they might be too young even to have witnessed the wrongs against their people that the Company were sworn to set right. Bilbo's brow furrowed. "Then why-?"

"Love."

"And loyalty."

The answers came without hesitation, neatly paired together almost as though rehearsed; the two brothers exchanged glances and gave matching small smiles. "Our uncle needed our help," Kíli concluded with an air of finality, as though that were all there was to it. Perhaps it was. Family loyalty was something Bilbo, Baggins and Took sides both, understood and quite approved of.

A strange and subtle sort of change had come over them; the silence returned, but there was a peace to it as though something had been laid to rest. As though a decision had been made. Before long Bilbo made his excuses and retired for the night, leaving the brothers - and what little wine remained - to their quiet contemplation of the darkening horizon. When he glanced back one last time it was to see them haloed by flickering golden torchlight, the shadow of the mountain beyond lost in the encroaching night. For a moment he wondered what home meant to those who had never truly had one, and what family meant to those who had never had anything else.

Far too short a time later, he will hear solemn tales of how they bravely fell in battle, defending their wounded king to the last breath. And that's how the tale will be told even among the rest of the Company. That they fought for their king, that they fought for Erebor. And Bilbo will bite his tongue to refrain from saying that they fought and died for _family_ , for the closest thing to home they had ever known, and wonder if they ever confided their doubts and fears to any save each other.


End file.
